What Came Between
by RenaKitten
Summary: Everything in DA2 that you didn't see. Here be snark! Blood! Adventure! Sweet elf loven! More snark! F!Hawke x Fenris - M for future chapters
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Standard I/P disclaimers.

I thought DA2 missed a lot in the establishment of friendships, relationships and people's actions. This is everything that came between what happened in the game.

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><p>"I've noticed when humans tell stories; they always talk about how attractive the heroines are. Why is that?" Merrill asked as she listened in on the group of Fereldens talking about the famous warden's newest exploits.<p>

We were sitting at what was quickly becoming our usual table at the Hanged Man, a bottle of something that tasted less and less awful the more we drank in the center. I raised my glass with mock hauteur and grinned at the little Dalish elf. "Because saying that someone has porcelain skin, hair of spun gold, and eyes of the truest sapphires sounds much better than saying she was pasty, had hair that was lank, and eyes that were small and hard. And…" I leaned forward as though imparting a great secret. "For some reason, heroes are better received if a majority of the population wants to sleep with them."

"But I knew Mahariel before she left my clan to join the Grey Wardens. She didn't look at all like that."

Verric reached across the table to grab the wine bottle and poured himself another glass. "It's called narrative license, Daisy. Those who tell the stories make history and they change details to suit them. In a decade, the Warden will be a human ten feet tall that could singlehandedly destroy hordes of Darkspawn in a single movement."

"But she isn't a human, she is an elf. And how could she be ten feet tall? She wasn't any taller than me." The tattoos between Merrill's eyes creased in confusion.

The dwarf shrugged. "That's just how stories work. When I tell Hawke's story, she'll be a long legged beauty, with skin the color of fresh cream, waist length hair that makes men beg to bury their hands in it, and eyes that steal the secrets of your soul."

I snorted into my wineglass and fingered my own light brown locks which had finally grown back to my shoulders after an unfortunate fireball incident. "So, basically you'll be substituting me with one of the girls from the Blooming Rose."

"Narrative license. Behold the power of the story."

"Anyways, why would you even think there would be a story? I'm just a girl trying to claw her way out of Lowtown and into to someplace that smells a little less like week old garbage. If people wanted to hear those types of stories, everyone would be famous."

"You, dear Hawke have what I call a 'Tragic Past'. People with 'Tragic Pasts' always make a name for themselves, good or bad."

"You just capitalized that didn't you?" I accused. "You know I hate it when you capitalize things when you're talking. I bet you even used quotations."

Verric flashed his white smile. "You know it. With your history and skills, it would be a crime for you not to do something noteworthy."

"I'm so glad that my father's death, the razing of my home, and my sister's death by an ogre has you salivating at the possibilities," I muttered dryly. "You know who else has history like that?"

"I'm sure you're going to enlighten me."

"Mass murderers." I drained the last of my wine and set the glass back on the scarred table with a thud.

"Whatever you say, Hawke." Verric looked at me over the rim of his own glass. "I've known you now for what, four months?"

"And in all those months, it seems as if you have never learned my name," I grumped.

"Elizabeth sounds like someone's aunt," he said dismissively. "Hawke rolls off the tongue better."

"Why would someone name their ant Elizabeth?" Merrill questioned. "And why would someone have an ant anyway?"

"Aunt as in older female relation, not as in a tiny bug with six legs," I clarified.

"Oh, in my clan we just call them kin."

"Anyways, Elizabeth," he emphasized the name, then grimaced and shook his head. "Hawke, what I was saying was in that time, you have managed to pull together favors from an unlikely group of misfits. A pirate queen with no ship, an escaped slave, a guardswoman, a possessed mage, a ridiculously handsome dwarf, and Daisy here, all in less than a year. Do you know how many storytellers would give their right leg to be at the start of something like that?"

"Leg? Why not an arm?"

"You can't have a tankard in one hand and a quill in the other if you're missing an arm."

I nodded sagely at that advice. He had a point, or at least the drink made it sound as if he had a point. "Speaking of possessed mages, have either of you seen Anders lately? I went to check on him a few weeks ago at his clinic to see how he was holding up after that thing with Karl. He seemed… off." Off was an understatement. When I had arrived, his robes had been splattered with patches of blood. Some of it the rust of aged stains, some of it fresh. He looked tired and older than he had just a few weeks ago. There was also a line of the wounded and the sick out the door of this clinic. He had barely had time for a few words to me before I got the impression he wanted me to leave.

"I think Blondie is trying to drown himself in work so that he can forget for a little while. You do know that Karl and he were lovers right?"

I was surprised. "No, actually, I didn't know that. I suppose having to kill someone you love would explain a lot. How did you find out about anyways? He's never mentioned it that I can remember."

"I keep my ears open. Sometimes what people say isn't as important as what they don't say. I would give him a little more time. Something tells me another week or so and he should be back to himself again."

"Is that something he said, or something he didn't say?"

Verric smiled a purposefully mysterious smile. "Call it dwarf intuition."

I rolled my eyes. "How about I call it 'Verric pays for information'?"

"There is always that." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "On the subject of paying, how are you coming along with raising the funds for the expedition?"

"I'm getting closer to what we need. A few more jobs should do it, I think. Aveline mentioned that clearing out some of the groups that roam the less reputable areas of the city at night could add to the purse, but she is always so busy."

Merrill was peering into her empty glass. "What about your brother? Surely he would be willing to help."

Carver. Ever since puberty, my younger brother had been antagonistic toward me. It had only gotten worse since Bethany died. Having his twin ripped away seemed to ruin a piece of him. He rarely smiled now. When we had arrived in Kirkwall, we had to choose to work with smugglers or mercenaries, either group having the deep enough pockets needed to grease the palms that would allow us into the city proper. I had chosen the smugglers, figuring that it would be a less bloody path. Carver had resented that decision. While good with a sword, he lacked the necessary temperament needed for stealthier jobs. As a result, it was I that had earned a bit of recognition among Kirkwall's less lawful citizens. He seemed to take it as a personal affront. Ever since he had been taking more and more risks. One of these days, my little brother was going to get himself killed. "Ah, no. I think we should leave Carver out of this. He's probably too busy sulking.

"Why would Carver be sulking now?"

"When isn't he sulking? But this time is because he is trying to join the guard and his application was rejected. I think Aveline had something to do with that."

Verric nodded in approval. "Always knew our girl had a head on her shoulders." His looked turned sly in a way that I was starting to recognize meant trouble. "There is another option as well." I braced myself. "The runaway slave. What was it you called him? Oh yes, I remember. The 'perfectly handsome elf.' He did mention that if you ever _needed_ him, he would be in that run-down mansion."

I could feel blood heat my cheeks even as I tried to play cool. "His name was Fenris, I believe." My own thoughts mocked me. 'I believe' Andraste's ass. I knew perfectly well what his name was. The surprised, extremely rusty chuckle the elf had given when I had made that little comment had piqued my curiosity about him enough that his name stuck in my mind. "I could go see if he would be willing to come out and give us a hand."

"Want us to come with you?"

I glanced at Merrill, who was now drawing pictures in the rings of condensation on the table while wearing a silly half smile. "Perhaps you should see Merrill home instead. In this condition, she would probably get herself all tangled up trying to use that twine to get back to the alienage, then I'd have to come unknot her. Again."

Verric put a hand on Merrill's shoulder. "Come on Daisy. Anymore of that wine and you'll wilt."

She stood, only slightly unsteadily. The two of them made their way through the crowd of patrons and out the door of the tavern. I watched them leave then called to Corff to put the evening's drinks on Verric's tab. He gave me a knowing grin and nodded. Verric might be a little miffed, but the man wanted me to come up with fifty cold. I had to save money somehow if I was going to get to that obscene amount.

The night breeze brought the scent of the sea with it as I made my way to Hightown. I made sure to walk casually, my head high, a hand resting naturally on a dagger. Lowtown was the last place a woman, hells even a man, wanted to be walking alone at night. The few groups of thugs I passed sized me up. Most knew me from my work with the smugglers, those that didn't; tonight I was able to ward them off with an 'I dare you' smile. If there was something I learned ever since coming to Kirkwall, it was that a little reputation and a hell of a lot of swagger, real or not, made people think twice about messing with someone. Some days it boggled my mind that the flippant crap that came out of my mouth seemed to be more effective than the most dire of threats. Maybe it made them question my sanity? Probably. Never trust a crazy chick with sharp pointy things strapped to her body, I've always said.

I made it to Hightown with no problems for once and it didn't take long to find my way back to the mansion that I had only been to once. I just looked for the most run-down home in the district. Now that I was in front of the door I paused. What was I supposed to do, knock? If I was squatting in a house, I certainly wouldn't be answering the door. Whoever was on the other side was most likely _not_ the neighborhood welcoming committee.

The door gave when I pushed hard at it, sticking a little. I thought I remembered Ander's Force Push slamming an armed guard against the door the first time we came here. Looks like the elf never gotten around to fixing that. When I shut the door behind me and let my eyes adjust to the dim light, I noticed that the elf hadn't gotten around to fixing anything. The place was a mess. Broken crates and pieces of furniture littered the foyer. The bodies were gone, but there were still some dark stains on the floor. I wrinkled my nose. The stains were starting to smell.

I started to head to the open door that would lead me deeper into the house and stopped when my skin started to tingle. My flesh seemed to know a hell of a lot better than my brain when danger was close. "Fenris," I called. "It's me." Yeah, that's smart. Like he would know the voice of a woman he had only met once. "Elizabeth Hawke," I clarified. "We slaughtered the previous inhabitants together?" I heard a shifting just on the other side of the door before the elf stepped out, broadsword naked in his hand.

"Hawke," he said coolly.

I eyed the bare weapon critically, before giving him a wry smile. "You were expecting someone else?"

He moved the blade so that it rested over his shoulder. "Perhaps."

We stood there looking at each other. He was tall, even by human standards, but very lean. If I hadn't seen him fight firsthand, I would doubt his ability to wield the large weapon he carried. Hair the color of snow looked as though it was cut for necessity rather than style. Short enough that it wouldn't get in his way, with a few messy locks that fell forward. How he kept it out of his eyes was beyond me. It would drive me insane to have to keep tossing it out of my face. Maybe elves had some secret elven hair rituals that made it do what they wanted?

The stretching silence pulled me out of my hair ponderings. "So," I said. When he didn't respond, I raised my brows. "Do you want to invite me in?"

He turned and headed toward the stairs, sword still over his shoulder. I took that as my invitation and followed after him. There was a fire going in what had to be the master bedchamber and the smell of spilt wine hung heavy in the air. Fragments of a broken bottle lay smashed near the fireplace, the bloodlike puddle still fresh. I nodded to it. "Looks like you were having a nice time before I came." I bent down to read the label. "Agreggio Pavali," I said, impressed. "You have good taste."

"Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed."

I sat myself down in one of the chairs facing the fire and eyed him. He turned to sheath his sword and the flames caught his profile. They turned his tanned skin golden and made the pale lyrium scars much more pronounced. With the grimness in his eyes and the steel in his stance, I could see why they would be intimidated. The idea of this warrior being a slave was like having a tiger chained to your bed. Deadly, but beautiful. I pushed the thoughts away so they wouldn't show on my face and gave him a slow smile. "I can't imagine why they would be put off."

Fenris gave a soft snort and the corner of his lips twitched. "You say what's on your mind," he said, shaking his head, "I'll give you that."

"Life's too short," I said. "Especially in my line of work. That's why I'm here actually. You mentioned before that you would be willing to help us out. Is that offer still good?"

He looked cautious. "Yes," he said slowly. "I owe you a debt. If my sword will repay that, then you have it."

I made a face. "You and your sword don't owe me anything, Fenris. You needed help and I gave it. I just came to see if you would mind coming out with a few of us to get rid of some of the more troublesome gangs. You're perfectly free to say no."

He gazed at me and in the light of the fire I could see the color of his eyes for the first time. They were a pale green and extremely skeptical. I sighed. "Look, just come out and get to know us. Nothing says bonding like making bad people bleed." When he didn't smile, I tried another track. "You're new to Kirkwall and from what little you've told me, it seems like you could use someone to watch your back. This isn't a good city to be alone in."

His voice was cool, boarding on cold. "I have made it just fine without you or anyone else so far."

"Fine, so you don't need someone to watch your back. How about a friend?"

"Slaves do not have… friends." He spat the word as if it was something foul.

"Well, it's a damn good thing that there are no slaves here then. All I can see is a stubborn elf." His head jerked back slightly at that and his eyes narrowed. I could tell he was fighting for control over his anger. A muscle twitched once in his jaw before he finally relaxed slightly.

"Very well," he said, the words sounding as if they were being pulled from him by force. "I shall accompany you if that is what you wish."

I nodded. "Great. Meet me at the Hanged Man tomorrow evening and we'll go from there. And don't worry about it too much, we don't bite." I paused. "Well, Isabela might."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Standard I/P disclaimers.

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><p>Darktown. Its very name drew shudders from the noble elite in Hightown. The difference between the two parts of Kirkwall was much, much greater than the layer of earth that separated them. For example, in Hightown, a woman being led through the streets by a dwarf and followed by a heavily armed elf and a Dalish apostate would draw stares and whispers. Especially if all the while the woman was swearing loudly at the several arrows sticking out of her shoulder, the garishly colored fletching looking like a masochist's attempt at accessorizing. Here in Darktown, people didn't seem to think it was the slightest bit out of the ordinary. I snorted, even as my teeth were grinding against the throbbing. Maker, people were funny.<p>

Verric hustled me through the doors of Anders' clinic. "Got a patient for you, Blondie."

Anders looked up from the book in his hand, for once having no other people waiting for his attention. The obscenely late hour probably had something to do with that. It was closer to dawn than it was to night fall. I gave him a lopsided smile that was tight from pain. "You're up late."

He stood and came over to examine the arrows sticking from my flesh. "Ever since Justice and I came together, I don't seem to sleep as much." His fingers prodded at my blood soaked armor.

"Oh, since you came together? Makes it sound like you're dating. I guess a benefit to dating yourself is never being alone on a weekend evening." My attempt at humor turned to a hiss when he poked a sensitive area.

"True, but Justice doesn't like to cuddle." Anders eyed the placement of the arrows critically. They were close together, stuck in the meat between my shoulder and collar bone. "Since you're not spitting up blood, I don't think they hit your lungs, but they have to come out before I can heal you. The armor has to come off."

I tried to undo the buckles, but it was impossible with one useless arm. "Little help please?" Anders paused and I scowled. From the time it had taken to finish off the asshole who had stuck me, then to get all the way to the clinic in Darktown, those shafts had been in my flesh for at least a half a hour. I was getting rather sick of them. Not to mention the blood had soaked the shirt underneath and it was getting cold and sticky. Oh, and they hurt. A lot. "By the Maker, someone undress me already!"

Verric laughed and stepped forward. Short blunt fingers made deft work of the buckles and it only took him a second to come to the same realization I had just had. The leather was not going to come off with the arrows in me. "Looks like we're going to have to cut it," he said practically.

I swore. I liked this armor. It had taken months to get it to fit just right. The grin on Verric's face made me swear again. "Just think of the story possibilities Hawke."

He pulled a sharp knife and carefully began cutting at the seams of the armor. "If any one of your stories about me turns into a bodice ripper," I warned softly, staying very, very still, "I will not be responsible for what I do to you."

"Ah, such sweet things you whisper."

The awful thoughts of what Verric could do with this little scene kept my mind off the fact that he was extremely close to my skin with a very sharp knife. He made short work of the leather and soon the only piece of it left was a small square pinned to me by the arrows. I looked down and immediately wished I hadn't. Blood and sweat plastered my shirt to my front. It wasn't pretty.

Anders took Verric's place, one hand bracing my wounded shoulder. "Hawke, I need you to focus on me." I nodded and he captured my grey eyes with his warm brown ones.

"You have pretty eyes," I muttered. He did actually have very pretty eyes for a male. A rich warm russet and thickly lashed. He smiled and without warning, yanked. Blinding white pain flashed through me. A scream tore at my throat and I clamped my mouth shut hard. It came out muffled and distorted. I could feel my blood flowing freely down my chest from what felt like a gaping hole until Anders pressed a clean pad over it.

When I could see again, Verric had taken the arrow from Anders and was examining it. It was wet and I could see chunks of flesh attached to it. My stomach rolled. "Andraste's flaming knickers. Those dog lords used back barbed arrows." He held it up and I could clearly see the backwards facing points on the arrow head. No wonder it hurt so badly coming out. It was designed to do extra damage if the person hit survived the attack.

"There's still one more Hawke," Anders said. "I'm sorry."

"Just get it done," I said through gritted teeth. Cool fingers entwined with my own. I glanced to see Merrill at my side. I gave her a grateful look and then nodded at Anders. "Do it."

He instructed Merrill to use her free hand to hold the bandage against the previous wound and braced me again. I shut my eyes this time and held my breath. A fresh wave of pain blasted through me. My Dalish friend didn't even whimper when I crushed her fingers with my own.

There was a wood and metallic noise as the arrow hit the ground and then warmth spread first through my chest, then through the rest of my body. I could feel my flesh knit itself back together, all the smaller injuries I had sustained healing immediately as the holes in my chest started closing. When the pain had a chance to lessen, the next annoyance came. The worst part of magical healing was for the really bad wounds, the itching and burning sensation was as bad or more so than the original injury.

My attempt to scratch at the itch got my hand batted away. I scowled, but stayed still for the several minutes it took for the wound to completely heal. An experimental shoulder shrug later and everything seemed back to working order. There was a little tenderness and the muscle seemed tight, but I had the use of my arm back. "Well," I said slowly. "That was fun."

Verric laughed and shook his head. "You're an odd one, Hawke."

Anders had an arrow back in his hand. "What were you doing going after the Coterie?"

Fenris, silent all this time, finally stepped forward, his eyes narrow. "And how do you know who did this, mage?" He had been quiet all night, especially when he saw Merrill was a mage, but he fought with us a deadly efficiency that was spectacular to behold. That's actually what I was doing when I had gotten shot. Beholding. I coughed.

Anders drew himself up to his full height, just a few inches shorter than the elf glaring at him. "I'm a healer, _elf_," he said the word with the same casual distain that Fenris had used for mage. "In case you missed that from what just happened. And I've seen a lot of patients with that same fletching stuck in them."

Ah, yes. That's right. Anders and Fenris couldn't stand each other, even though they had only met one time before. On Fenris' side, I think it was the fact that there was a spirit living inside the mage. For Anders… I believed the barely veiled hatred in the elf's eyes had something to do with it. While I was thinking, Verric explained to Anders what we had been doing tonight.

I was getting cold without my leathers to protect me from the underground chill. The slowly drying blood on my shirt was not making matters any better either. I tugged at the cloth and it peeled away from me with a sucking sound. Nasty. Going home covered in blood like this was going to be a nightmare. Mother was going to have hysterics. I laughed a little at myself. I had just killed several people and I was worried about my mother yelling at me. I was an adult. I shouldn't be afraid of my mother. Although… perhaps if I was really quiet, I could just sneak in without waking anyone. Or maybe I could borrow a shirt from Merrill? I eyed her slim frame then my much bustier one and mentally nixed that idea. Verric maybe? Yeah, like he would have any shirts that didn't show off his rather impressive expanse of chest hair. It was like the natural dwarven beard had just migrated south for the winter and decided it liked the warmer clime. I barely registered that Anders had just asked me a question. "Sorry, what was that?"

"You must have a bigger death with than some of the Grey Wardens I knew. Why didn't you take me with you?"

"You've been busy lately."

"Yes, but since you've been clearing out all those groups, I've only had to deal with patients with sniffles instead of sucking chest wounds. I could have come with. What would you have done if the wound was worse and you couldn't have gotten to me in time?"

"Um, died?"

"And what sort of example would that have set?"

"A good one. One that said, don't do what she just did."

Anders laughed. "You have a point there, I guess."

"You want to come with us then? I almost have enough for the expedition and your skills would be most welcome."

"I'm crushed. You just want me for my ability to keep your blood from leaking out all over the floor." He glanced at the stain under my feet from earlier. "Again. And here I thought it was my witty repartee that had you asking."

"Let's not forget the handsome package that the witty repartee comes with. I'll need something to look at besides the stalactites." I waggled my eyebrows lecherously and he laughed again.

"Hmm, avoid Darkspawn or travel with a lovely woman. You do present me with difficult choices Hawke. I swore I would never go back to the Deep Roads, it's hot and smelly and Ser Pounce-A-Lot hated it down there." At my questioning look he clarified, "My cat. The Wardens made me give him up after that. He was a fighter though. Gave a hurlock a nasty swipe on the nose. Almost got ripped in half too." He looked sad for a second. "I miss that little kitty." He rallied. "If you need me, I will come though. Someone has to keep you alive."

"Good. I like being alive. Now that that's settled, I think we should head home." I tugged again at my sticky shirt. "I for one want a bath."

We left Anders at his clinic and made our careful way out of Darktown. I felt strangely naked going through the city without my armor. If we got attacked again, I was going to be a liability, but we got Merrill home and Verric to the Hanged Man without issue. Fenris and I walked alone the short distance towards Gamlen's home. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you willing to come along on the expedition? We'll be gone a few weeks and it's the last place anyone would look for you."

I could feel his gaze on my profile, searching for what, I couldn't say. "Who is going with you, other than the mage?"

That got a snort from me. Fenris and Anders down in the deep roads with me as the only thing between them? Somehow I doubted either of them would make it out alive. Hells, I might be the one to kill them. "Verric, since it is his brother's expedition. Plus he's handy with traps and locks and whatnot. Bianca isn't too shabby either."

"Bianca?"

"His crossbow. He has a strange relationship with it." I shook my head. "Men and their weapons."

"Your brother is not going?"

I paused. "Carver and I don't see eye to eye anymore." I said at last. "Being trapped underground together is the last thing I would wish on either of us. Besides, other than Uncle Gamlen, who's no prize, he and I are all that mother has left. If something happens down there…" I trailed off. "I don't want her to be left alone."

That seemed to be a good enough answer for Fenris. "I do not like the abomination," he said warningly.

"Then you should come with and keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't go all demony." I wiggled my fingers at him.

"You have a strange sense of humor Hawke." I could tell he was thinking though. "I will come with you," he said finally.

"Excellent! We'll go down there, slaughter some darkspawn, loot some abandoned thaigs, make some money. It will be fun."

He rewarded that with a snort.

The silence stretched out as we walked. Chatty, Fenris wasn't. I had to break it. "That wasn't too bad tonight, was it?"

"What wasn't too bad?"

"Having people there to watch your back."

"It was… different."

I eyed him. "I get the feeling you still don't trust us."

"My first memory was that of my master infusing my flesh with lyruim. The pain of it burned away everything that came before. I was a slave for years after that. Since then, I have been hunted, day in and day out. So no, I do not trust you."

"You will, you know."

"You sound very certain."

I gave him a little smile. "Yep."

"Why is that?" He sounded curious despite himself.

"Because I will never ask anything from you that I wouldn't be willing to give if you needed."

Fenris was quiet. We had reached the door to Gamlen's hovel and my hand paused on the handle. "There's a word for that, you know."

Pale green eyes met mine. "Friends." I left him with that and went silently into the house.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Standard I/P Disclaimers.

Isabela is just too much fun to write. I actually had to clean up quite a bit of her parts because, well, she just got away from me and she wouldn't fit into the M rating as I had her. *cough*

And yes, that is a nod to the kmeme group in there :D

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><p>A big hand shook my shoulder roughly. I pulled the pillow over my head and moaned. "Go away."<p>

"Get up."

"Carver, I just got in a few hours ago, let me sleep." My voice was muffled by the sad excuse for a pillow.

"Mother knows about last night."

The triumph in my little brother's voice made me pause. I pulled the pillow off my face slowly and gave him a hard look. "And who do I have to thank for that, my dear sibling?"

He tossed me my house robe and I struggled into it, swallowing down the dread in my stomach. That she hadn't come bursting into the room as soon as she got up this morning showed just how upset she was. With a last glare at my brother, I left the room we shared. Mother was sitting by the fire, the remains of my bloodied and burned shirt in her hands. When I had gotten home last night, I had tossed the evidence of my injury into the fireplace. Looks like someone rescued it before it could disappear just like the holes in my chest.

"What am I to do with you Elizabeth?"

"Mother, I-"

"You go out at all hours of the night, you come home bloody and exhausted. You hide things like this," she shook the shirt at me. "Tell me, what am I supposed to do?"

Her fine-boned features were tense with worry. It tore at my heart. I knelt beside her. "Mother, I'm just doing what needs to be done. I have to raise this money so we can get back your family estate, to get out of Lowtown. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Not if it costs me my child. We've lost so much, your father, Bethany… I couldn't stand to lose you as well. You've done so well at taking care of this family, but you're taking too many risks. How many other times have you come home bloody like this that you've never told me about?"

The tears were trailing down her cheeks and I brushed him away. The backs of my own eyes prickled. "I'm fine mama, really I am. I have good people with me, we protect each other." I loosened the robe belt and tugged at the collar of my nightshirt, showing her where I had been hit last night. "Anders is a healer, a good one. See, there isn't even a mark on me now. I might get a little scrapped up every now and then, but it's what needs to be done. Please don't worry so much, I'll be fine."

She cupped my cheek and stared into my face. "You have your father's eyes, his strength. And his stubbornness. There's nothing I can do to sway you from this?"

"Afraid not mama. You're getting your family home back, one way or another."

"Promise me you'll be careful."

I nodded. "Always."

She sighed deeply. "Go get dressed. I'm sure you have plenty to do today."

Carver was sitting on his bed running a whetstone over his blade when I reentered the room. "Do you enjoy making her worry like that?"

He didn't look up from his sword. "You're the one who's always gone, who's doing things that worry her." He huffed under his breath. "When I go out, she's never that concerned about me. Only you, her precious firstborn, the head of the family. If you died, where would we be?" The anger in his tone startled me.

"Carver, when father died, I didn't see anyone else stepping up to fill his shoes. Someone had to."

"And you were so quick to take his place," he sneered. "The rest of us didn't even have time to mourn him before there you were, taking charge of us all."

"What else was I supposed to do? Don't you think I wanted to mourn with the rest of you? But someone had to make sure there was food on the table and clothes on our backs. Someone had to keep an eye on the Templars and to keep Bethany out of their view. If mama had lost them both, I don't think she would have survived it."

"Bethany would have been better off in the Circle than where she is now. What you did didn't work out so well for her, now did it?"

My head jerked back as if struck. Turning my back to hide my face, I snatched my leather pants, still stained with last night's blood, and tugged them on with quick, jerky movements. The robe and night clothes got tossed on the bed after digging out a clean shirt. I was tying the throat closed as I turned back around, anger bubbling in me. "Know what baby brother? Fuck you."

I stalked out of the room, pulling my extra set of leathers over my head as I walked. Stopping long enough to trust my blades into their sheaths, I headed for the door. "Where are you going now Elizabeth," my mother called.

"Out," I growled.

"Try not to get hurt. Please?"

I gave her a grim smile. "Don't worry about that. It's not me who's going to get hurt."

The door slammed shut behind me with too much force. Childish I know, but it made me feel a little better.

As I shouldered my way into the Hanged man, I was finishing doing up the buckles on my armor. Isabela leaned in her normal spot at the bar, an obviously inebriated man speaking to her with worshipful eyes.

"Isabela, my dusky goddess. For just one taste of your lips, I would scale the very peak of Sundermount. I would fight the Qunari in your honor. I would..."

"Leave a very messy stain on the pavement."

"Do not dismiss me so, my sweet pirate queen! While I may not show my strengths on the outside, I have hidden talents."

She eyed his crotch casually. "Very well hidden, obviously. So well hid in fact, I don't think I'd be able to find it."

The drunken man's face reddened with embarrassment. I stepped in and slid my arm around the pirate's waist. "Did you miss me love?"

Without missing a beat, she turned and rested her head on my shoulder. "Oh yes," Isabela purred. "I had to spend last night all by myself. I was so... lonely"

The man stared at us both, his hidden talent becoming slightly less hidden. Stammering something, he backed away, headed towards the lodgings in back. We watched him go, tossing each other lusty looks every time he glanced over his shoulder.

"Now that was entertaining."

"Indeed."

"Want some ale?"

"Maker, yes."

She ordered one from Corff and brought it to the table I had flopped down at. "A bit early for you to be drinking isn't it?" She eyed my unkempt hair. "Carver again?"

I nodded, taking a long drink. Ale seemed to be my breakfast whenever I woke up to a fight with my brother. Lately, that was a daily occurrence. "I see you didn't bother with a brush this morning, or is that the newest style from Orlais?"

I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at a spot of dried blood I had missed in last night. There was no way I would get it into any semblance of order without a bath. I gave up. "I don't think I could have picked one up without chucking it at his head. He's just been such an… an ass lately."

"Since the two of you have to share a room in your uncle's lovely home, maybe he's not getting enough alone time."

I wrinkled my nose. "Thank you for that awful image. I'm going to go wash my brain in lye now."

She shrugged. "Really though, if you wanted, we could set him up at the Rose."

"Sex isn't the answer to every problem, Isabela."

"Think so? You'd be surprised."

My mug was empty and now that my stomach had something in it, it was starting to growl.

Isabela was looking thoughtful. "If you don't want to send him to the Rose, I suppose I could take a go at him. He is kind of cute in an angry puppy sort of way."

And the growling stopped.

"You're too kind."

"What are friends for?"

Not for having sex with my sibling, but I didn't feel it was necessary to mention that. "We've been fighting too much lately. What I do at night is an improvement to being at home. At least out there, I can stab someone if they try to hurt me. But I'm going to be headed out on the expedition soon. I'll be glad to get some space between the two of us."

"You're going to the Deep Roads without me? I'm hurt."

"Can you honestly image yourself down there? If you can't smell the sea you start waxing poetic on all things ship related after only a few days."

"I can't help it. I love to feel the deck rolling under me. That salty smell in the air. The sails heaving in the wind. To long without and the craving for it can drive you mad."

"Please tell me we're still talking about sailing."

Isabela gave a throaty giggle. "Of course."

"If Aveline was here, she'd be calling you a slattern right now."

"And she'd be scolding you for drinking your breakfast. How is Aveline anyway? I miss her. Haven't been called whore by a woman in platemail in nearly two weeks."

"Whore."

"No, it's just not the same. A woman in leather called me that yesterday."

"Probably because you were sitting on her husband's lap. But Aveline was doing well the last time I saw her. She has been busy with the guard. Ever since the commander got booted out, she's been trying to take his place. Says she has barely the time to sleep or bathe, but I think she loves it."

"Speaking of baths… You could use one." She fingered the dried bloody patch in my hair.

"Carver's still at home."

"Have them bring one to my room here. I promise I won't peek."

"Liar."

She winked at me. "If you don't trust me, you could go see if you could use Fenris' tub."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I had a chat with Merrill. She mentioned you were distracted last night. Said you were so distracted, you didn't see the archer till he put two arrows in you."

Heat rose up the back of my neck. Last night wasn't my finest moment. "Maybe if she was casting instead of watching, then she could have stopped him from shooting me," I grumbled.

"She thought it was cute. So, have you taken him home yet?"

The flush was now threatening to burn my ears to cinders. "I hardly know the man."

She gave me a look that clearly said, 'what's your point?'

"Look, he's had a hard life and I just think he could use some friends."

"I certainly wouldn't mind being _friendly_ with him. Don't you want to know if those tattoos go _all_ the way down?" That mental image made me swallow hard. "If not him, there is Anders. Handsome enough and with all that finger wiggling he does, I bet his hands are dexterous. Though I have seen a drunken wombat that had less crazy in its eyes. Crazy can be fun for a night or two," she mused. "As long as you pull anchor the next day and get out of town."

"Is this what you do all day? Think about having sex with everyone we come in contact with?"

"With no ship, what else is there for me to do? I've even wrote some stories about it. I call it 'friend fiction.' Want to read one?"

"No. Just no." I considered it. "Maybe later."

"You sure you don't want one while you're in the bath? I just finished a particularly juicy one about a noble flame haired warrior woman and her manly yet short roguish lover. Footstools are involved."

I shook my head. "She's going to kill you. You know that, right?"

"As long as she gets some pointers out of the story, I can die a happy woman."

Rising, I searched for someone to set up a tub in the pirate's room. I left her sitting there with a notebook that she pulled out of who knows where, already scribbling her next adventure.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Standard I/P disclaimers.

* * *

><p>Four days on the road so far, another two before we even see the entrance to the Deep Roads. After that, at least a week under the surface. I would have a minimum of a month before we returned home. A month without arguing with Carver. I could live with that.<p>

The journey so far had been uneventful. The carts filled with expedition gear were being pulled by strong, deep-chested horses that never seemed to tire. There was room enough on a few of the carts to lay back and I had been doing quite a lot of that. The outriders looked formidable and the rest of us carried enough weaponry that bandits would think twice about attacking this caravan. For the first time in quite awhile I had nothing to do other than keep up with the group. Anders was using his time scribbling furiously on loose scraps of paper.

Verric and I had moved some gear around on a cart and were sitting cross-legged against some chests, trying to teach Fenris the fundamentals of Wicked Grace. "I can't believe even in Tevinter that you never played cards. What did you do in your free time?"

"I was a slave. There was no free time."

Verric shook his head in disbelief. "That's just inhuman."

Fenris raised a dark eyebrow and said nothing. There was just the barest hint of amusement though. Of all the things that being a slave meant, not being able to play cards was what Verric voiced the most shock at. I hid my grin as I shuffled the deck before handing it to the dwarf.

"There are five suits." Verric held up each one as he named them off. "Coins. Cups. Swords. Crowns. The last suit is Andraste's Grace. The point is to get the best hand possible, matching multiples of card values, or having a straight run of them. There are four Andraste's Grace cards in the deck, but only two values of it. If you draw the first one," this time he held up a card with a stylized Andraste raising her hands to the sun, "then that card is anything you want it to be. You just say what it is when you show your hand. If you draw the other," this card had Andraste at the stake looking beautiful and noble even as flames licked at her feet. "You cannot discard it, nor will it work in helping your hand. Essentially, if you draw that, you have to do the best you can with only four cards."

"Make the best out of the situation, whether or not grace favors you. Hence the name."

"That's right Broody. So, we going to play?"

We played a several hands. Once Fenris got a hold of the game, his general stoicism worked well in his favor. It was harder to read him than it was even Verric. Five gold later and I was out. I was never very good that the game. According to Verric, I just had too many tells. I tossed in my cards and sat back to watched the two of them play. It pleased me to note that some of the tension that the elf always seemed to carry was lessened. His shoulders were relaxed and for the first time since in the short while I've known him, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun, enjoying the warm rays while listening to them bicker over the rules. The heat of the sun and the gentle rocking of the cart made my body languid. The voices faded to a dull murmur and I dozed off, content.

I must have slept for a few hours because when I awoke, the sun was setting and we were stopping to make camp for the evening. Shoulders stiff, I stretched. Verric grinned at me when he was I was awake. "So how much did you win," I asked with a yawn.

"Only two from him. The elf's a sharp one. Got pretty good at reading me toward the end there."

"I suppose if your life was dependant on the whims of someone else that would give you a lot of practice reading people." I glanced around and saw him a few carts up, helping to unload. "What do you think of him?" I asked quietly.

"I like him. Bet he's got a story that would sell thousands. I can just see it. A runaway slave turned broody yet handsome sellsword with the ability to pull people's still beating hearts from their chests. All it needs is a little romance and the ladies would lap it up. I'd call it 'Passion's Tender Blade.'"

I snickered. "Because nothing says passion like a fistful of bloody muscle."

"That's something you don't hear every day," Anders said from behind us. He was stuffing a sheaf of papers into a pouch as he approached. "But from the fisting comment, I suppose you're discussing Fenris. I can tell you that the only passion he has is for hating mages."

We moved to help set up the evening's camp. "Well, can you blame him? You don't seem all that lovey-dovey towards templars yourself."

"I can't help it. They wear skirts with their armor. It looks ridiculous."

"Says the man in a dress," Verric muttered under his breath.

"Maybe, but the difference is I make it look _good_."

The camp got arranged in good time. Dinner for the evening was venison that a guard had managed to hunt. As we drew closer to the entrance to the Deep roads, wild life was getting scarcer, a remnant of the just ended Blight. We enjoyed what we knew would be the last bit of fresh meat for a long time.

Darkness fell and Verric entertained the hirelings with wild and outlandish stories, while Bartrand poured over the maps and occasionally glared at his younger brother. The camp quieted at last and people headed into tents. I glanced at the one I was assigned to. I was bunking with Vivica, a mercenary who was hired for extra protection, and the only other female in the expedition. The few nights I had spent with her already soured me from joining her any sooner than I needed to. She had a perpetual scowl on her face.

Plus, she snored.

I sat by the fire, listening to the crackle pop of the flames and stared at the stars. It was peaceful there and did more to refresh me than sleeping next to Snorey McCranky.

"You seem deep in thought."

I glanced up to see Anders standing over me. "Not really. Just admiring the stars. The sky it beautiful here, so far from the city."

He plopped himself down gracelessly next to me and joined me in my contemplation. "Know anything about the constellations?" he asked at last.

"A little." I pointed at a few stars. "See those there, that's Bovia, the sacred animal from which the milk of life flows. Those four stars there in a curve, that's the Maker's sacred basin of ablutions. And that cluster over there," I picked out a different part of the sky this time. "That's Leporidae. He controls man's destiny."

Anders stared at the sky for a while. "So… A cow, a sink, and a bunny of fate?"

I shrugged. "I used to sit outside with my father at night when I was young and we would make up stories about the stars."

He laughed. "I like the idea of a fate bunny. It makes everything seem… fluffier."

"You would think so, wouldn't you? But you have to be careful of Leporidae. He's got real big teeth."

We grinned at each other. "You speak fondly of your father," he mentioned.

"He was a good man," I said simply.

"He was a mage, right?"

I nodded. "He and my sister both."

"I've heard someone say you have a sister, but you've never mentioned her."

"Had a sister. Bethany died when we were fleeing Lothering. There was an ogre." It had barely been a year since she died but the pain and guilt were still fresh. "She tried to protect us."

"I'm sorry Hawke." He laid a hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks, but it gave Carver another excuse to dislike me, so I guess it worked out for someone." I forced a lightness I didn't feel into my voice.

"Your brother can't blame you. That would just be stupid."

"Well, I believe his exact words were 'It's your fault she's dead. You shouldn't have let her go after that thing.'"

"Then I reiterate the last part of my previous statement."

"I concur."

We sat together in comfortable silence till the warmth of the fire finally started to make me drowsy. I stood and said good night, hoping all the while that I would be tired enough to actually sleep through Vivica.

* * *

><p>The Deep Roads smelled like sulfur. Tales of the Warden never mentioned that she was trapped underground breathing in rotten egg. And the deeper we went the stronger the smell became. The back of my throat burned with it and my head ached.<p>

"Verric, what do you think about the mage situation?" Anders was asking as we trekked pass miles and miles of stone and rock and more stone. We had to be close to the necessary depth by now. The tunnel we were walking along no longer looked natural, but dwarf made. From the occasional bridges we crossed, I could see rivers of lava far below us.

"I don't, Blondie."

"Really? A group of people are persecuted in your city, and you don't have an opinion on it?"

"Nope."

"What you call persecution, I call reasonable vigilance. Mages who truly mean no harm," Fenris said this as if the idea was impossible, "have nothing to fear from the Templars."

"So as long as you did everything Danarius said, you had nothing to fear from him?"

"Shut up mage."

"Mages here aren't what you saw in Tevinter." Anders pressed the situation, ignoring the note of warning in the elf's voice. I rubbed at my temples. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Maybe not yet, but the moment they are free, mages will make themselves magisters."

"They're slaves! You should want to help them."

"I don't."

Verric broke in to their argument and saved me from having to step in. "The pendulum always swings. Kirkwall used to be part of the Imperium, now it's swung to the other side and the templars control the city. The only time its calm is when it's in the center, because then, neither side is happy and us regular people get a rest from all the bitching."

"Amen to that," I muttered.

Ahead of us, Bartrand called a halt. A dwarven scout was hurrying back to the group. It appeared the tunnel taking us where we needed to go had collapsed and the side passages were still filled with darkspawn. Bartrand, always one to shoot the messenger, punched the dwarf hard, knocking him off his feet. "Make camp," he roared.

"Problems brother?"

Bartrand paced in his irritation. "Sodding Deep Roads. Who knows how long it will take to clear a path."

"Shall we not try to find a way around instead? Seems like a logical choice," Verric said rationally.

"You think I'm an idiot Verric? The scout said the side passages were too dangerous!"

I fingered my blades with an anticipatory smile. "Pointy and Stabby say otherwise."

"We'll go take a look," Verric soothed brother. "If we come running back, screaming, you'll know staying put was the right choice."

Before the four of us headed towards one of the side passages, Bodahn, a merchant dwarf came running up. "I hate to add to your burdens, but my boy Sandal has run off down one of the passages. Please bring him back to me. He just doesn't understand danger like he should."

I assured him we would bring him back, one way or another. A few quick questions to some of the other members of the expedition gave us a general idea of which way he went and we started off in that direction.

"So you named your blades Pointy and Stabby?"

I laughed. "What's wrong with that? You named your crossbow."

"Yeah," Verric said, shaking his head. "But I didn't name her Shooty."

"What about Ball-Crusher and Harlot?"

"I don't think Aveline and Isabela would appreciate the honor." He paused to think about it. "Actually, Isabela might."

"How about Rumination and Cyclothymia?"

That got something that sounded spuriously like a growl from Fenris.

"I don't know what that last word means, but I don't think I like it," Anders grumbled.

"Maybe you should stick with Pointy and Stabby."

I glanced at the two men scowling at me and grinned. "I think you might be right."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Standard I/P disclaimers.

Sorry about the delay, its finals week for me and school is being so rude as to actually want my attention for once.

* * *

><p>"Boiling oil?"<p>

"Hmm... No Blondie, to prosaic I think."

"How about cut off his hand to teach him a lesson?"

"Did Justice come up with that?"

"I think so. He's annoyed and it's giving me a bloody headache. Oooh! Why don't we dip him in molten gold and set him up in the entry of the Hanged Man?"

"Oh, that I like. It's poetic."

Fenris gave me a sidelong glance. "What are they talking about?"

"What to do with Bartrand when we find him. I like that gold idea personally."

"As do I."

Verric's bastard of a brother had sealed us into the Deep Roads, all so that he wouldn't have to share the profits of the lyruim idol we found. That had made us… cranky. The joke was on Bartrand though, because what we found as we searched for a way out dwarfed that damn idol's worth tenfold. A treasure hoard awaited us and even taking only what we could carry still worked out to a king's ransom. We only had to fight a demon, some animate rocks and a dragon to get it.

The only other large dragon I've ever seen was a shifted Flemeth. This dragon wasn't even near the size she was and it nearly tore us to pieces. Anders had been so drained from all the healing he had done during and after the fight that he could barely stand. Verric and I had to half carry him out of that cave. Fenris still had injuries that I know he was hiding. He didn't say anything about it this whole time, but he was favoring his right side. The lizard had rounded on Verric and Fenris' attempts to get its attention back on him and earned him a vicious tail lash to the ribs. Armor may stop sharp objects from slicing open the squishy bits, but it doesn't do a damn thing when several hundred pounds of dragon whips at you.

We had made our way out of the Deep Roads and were back in the open air at last, making our way back to Kirkwall. We all had taken several deep breaths on exiting the tunnel that led us back to sunlight and seabirds. No one said anything, but it was clear that none of us wanted to go back in there any time soon.

"So Fenris, what are you going to do with your part of the money?"

He didn't seem to consider it for very long. "I have a… network that requires coin. This mission was profitable enough that I should be able to keep them working for me a while longer. I thank you for letting me come with you."

"I should be thanking you. You saved my ass in there enough times, let alone everyone else's," I said, grinning. "When you fight, it's like that sword is an extension of you. A big, sharp, deadly extension. I don't know how you do it. I would be hitting friends as much as enemies if I tried to wield that thing."

A faint blush stained his cheeks and he looked both pleased and uncomfortable. "I was Danarius' bodyguard. The reach of the blade was necessary keep attackers at bay. With him behind me, there was little chance that he would be hit with a stray swipe, though I can't say I didn't consider that at times." He looked grim for a moment then changed his focus to me, green eyes curious and non-hostile. "You yourself seem proficient with your daggers. How did that happen?"

"Father and my sister were both mages. We spent quite a bit of time trying to stay out of the templars notice. Carver likes swords like yours, but they tend to draw a lot of attention. I decided that daggers are a little more easily concealed. Besides, when men see a woman carrying a large blade, well, let's just say their reaction just makes you want to stab someone. They take it as a challenge to either fight you, or to try and sleep with you."

"So you tried to use a sword before?"

I eyed him suspiciously. "Are you going to tell me you are one of those men who find it sexy when a woman wields a phallic piece of metal?" The look he gave me was so droll I laughed. "I tried using one before I moved to daggers. Have the scars to prove it too. I know which end to hold if it's a dire emergency. Just make sure no one else is around me and there are plenty of bandages nearby for after."

"Did you brother train you?"

"No, he joined the military as soon as he was old enough. There was someone else, a man named Vince who came to Lothering shortly after my family. My father let him stay with us a while to help out around the house. Father was so busy then helping Bethany learn to control her powers…" I trailed off. The memory of the resentment I had felt for my sister then was clear in my mind. Before, there were so much that father and I shared together but once she came into her powers, she started taking center stage in his life. Looking back at the anger and hurt now, I wished I could feel it again. If I was feeling that, then that meant they both were be alive.

Fenris was still waiting for me to continue what I was saying. I cleared my throat. Vince was a better topic than going down that road. Sort of. "Vince seemed to find training me an amusing hobby. He was a decent enough teacher, and the rest I picked up while working with Athenril and her smugglers."

"Did your mentor survive Lothering?"

I hesitated. Maybe this wasn't a better topic. "No, not exactly. He died shortly before my father did." The laugher had died in my voice and my clipped words had him giving me an appraising glance.

We had fallen several paces behind the other two men and the distance was getting further as we walked. "I'm sorry. He must have meant a great deal to you. It seems that talking about him is painful."

"You could say that," I said quietly when Verric and Anders rounded a curve in the road. "He was my first."

That got a long, heavy moment of silence from Fenris. Finally, "You loved him a great deal." The words were hesitant.

"What?"

"You said he was your first…" I stopped and stared at him. Fenris looked distinctly awkward and slightly confused. It was rather cute.

I finally caught at his meaning. Looking back on my wording, I flushed. "Oh… Oh no. Not like that. No, I didn't love him. And I certainly didn't have sex with him." I caught and held pale green eyes with my own. What I actually was talking about was far more important than bed play. "His was the first whose blood stained my hands."

That was a secret I hadn't shared with anyone. Even my family didn't know what had happened that night, but they suspected. I had come home, covered in blood and then spent the next two hours boiling myself in the hottest bath I could draw. I don't know what made me mention it now. Just being out on the road with Fenris, being trapped together down in the Deep Roads, having him save my hide, it just made me feel as though I owed him some part of myself. That maybe he would understand.

"I do not remember anything of my life before I received these markings. After receiving them, my only thought was for Danarius. I killed when he told me to, or when he was threatened. I do not know who my first was. That you do and that it effects you still, speaks well of you."

"That seems extremely generous. I could have just been on a random killing spree."

"Perhaps. But I have learned a bit of you. Whatever happened, I doubt that it wasn't necessary."

Maker preserve me. I was at a loss for words. There was an unfamiliar warmth in my chest and my stomach flopped in a disconcerting way. His gaze was making me feel exposed in a way that had nothing to do with clothing. I sought something, anything to clear the air. "Enough about me," I said, my words coming out thick. I had to clear my throat. "You mentioned you had some type of network working for you?"

He didn't look fooled by the sudden change in topic. In fact, he looked slightly relieved as well. "Yes. They gather information for me from places I can no longer go."

"Danarius is still hunting you?" I asked.

"Perhaps it would be better suited to say we are hunting each other."

"So what happens when you find him?"

"I kill him."

"I know _that_. I meant what then? What happens when all the running is done?"

He pondered that question. I honestly didn't think he had ever though much beyond his plans for Danarius. "What do people do when they stop running?"

I shrugged. "Some people put down roots, make a new home. They try to find some sort of peace in their life. Others…" I shook my head. "They just find something new to run from."

"What about you? Now that the Blight is over, are you going back to Lothering?"

"Nope. Kirkwall is my home now. I think I'm going to make a go at that roots thing."

"I would return to Seheron if I could, but that is no place for me now."

I slid a glance to him. "Plenty of space in Kirkwall to put down roots, you know. It would be like a transplanted flower. Move it from where it's from and sometimes it can actually thrive."

He gave that rusty chuckle that tightened something in my belly. "I do not think anyone has ever compared me to a flower before."

I jabbed a finger at one spikes of his pauldron. "Maybe you would be better as a thorny shrub."

"You may be right."

Verric and Anders had slow their pace to let us catch up. "Come on you two," the dwarf called. "Don't make me come back there and play chaperone."

"Verric, it's been so long since any of us had a bath, I think that eliminates the need of a chaperone. It feels like the leather has bonded to my skin."

"Well, I didn't want to say anything about that…"

"Shut it dwarf. Your people came from Orazammar and I've never heard of a sewer system down there, so don't talk to me about stinking."

"Just for that, I don't think I'm going to tell you about the river that's a mile or so ahead of us."

The river was more of a stream this late in summer, but it was running water and I was certainly not going to complain. It snaked its way through some trees and ran conveniently close to a clearing a safe distance from the road.

Setting camp was a quick affair. When Bartrand had left us, he had taken everything with him. The only things we had with us were what we had in our packs. A thin bedroll, some rations, one spare set of clothes, various weapon upkeep equipment and an exorbitant amount of socks. We had all learned early in our careers that a person lived or died by the condition of their feet. Blisters made it hard to move quickly, hence all the socks.

The rations were getting low by the time we had made it out into fresh air again. Desperation for something other than dried beef and mealy hardtack had made us creative. Originally, all four of us were foraging for edibles, but my rather impressive knack for only picking things that happened to be horribly poisonous got me stuck feeding twigs to the fire. It wasn't my fault that all the plants that looked tasty happened to be deadly. A case of poison ivy later, one that had Anders laughing till he cried even as he healed my swearing self, and I agreed it would be best if I just stuck to tending the flames.

Between the three of them, they managed to find fresh food and surprisingly, it was Anders who was providing us our meat each night. Being a mage and able to zap a poor defenseless bunny at twenty paces had its uses when one was hungry. By the time they came back with dinner, I had a fire going and was working on setting up our bedrolls in a circle around the flames. The sock filled packs worked well as a pillow. The next time anyone laughed at me about how many pairs I take with, I would make sure to remind them of this.

Anders handed a pair of rabbits to Fenris. The elf rolled his eyes. "You deal daily with human wounds and gore and yet you still cannot skin and gut a rabbit."

"I can't help it. They're so cute and fluffy. _You_ don't even have to use a knife if you don't want to. You can just do that fisting thing to yank their guts out from the inside."

Fenris turned away to clean the hares, muttering quietly under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like a threat to the mage's own insides.

"If I leave you here, will you two promise not to kill each other while I go get cleaned up?"

Both men ignored me and I trotted away, grinning to myself as I headed to a cluster of trees some ways down the stream. When I got to what I deemed a safe distance, I shucked my armor and sighed happily. My skin being able to breathe again after being trapped so long in stiff and bloody leather was a delicious feeling. Pulling the shirt over my head, I dunked it into the stream. The water was pleasantly cool as I scrubbed myself, washing away sweat and blood and things that I didn't look to closely at. I took my time, enjoying the dusk breeze flowing over my wet skin. Once I was finally clean, I pulled on my extra shirt and washed the first one as well as I could.

Wet shirt in one hand and armor in the other, I headed back to camp, feeling more human than I had in a while. As I came out of the cusp of trees, I saw a white haired figure further up, kneeling by the water. Bare olive flesh gleamed in the light of the setting sun. Tight pants fit snugly over narrow hips and the leanly muscled back rippled as its owner washed, the white lyrium scars dancing with each movement.

I gulped. Etiquette demanded that I make myself known. Unfortunately, etiquette didn't always get what it wanted. I was rooted to the spot, unable to do more than stare. He ran wet hands through his snowy hair, slicking it back so that for once, it wasn't hanging in his eyes. Without unruly locks obscuring his profile, his sharp cheekbones and even sharper elven ears made my fingers itch to brush along them. Belatedly, I remembered how to breathe. A garbled noise wrenched its way from my throat and Fenris' head jerked up. Even at this distance, I could feel his gaze piercing me. Wresting control of my feet back from my hormones, I headed his way apologizing all the while and intending to skirt around him.

"I'm so sorry, Fenris, I didn't know you were out…" I stopped as he stood up and stared at a chest that could have been sculpted by the ancient elven artisans. As lovely as it was, it was the huge black and purple bruise marring his ribs and chest that commanded my attention. "Oh Fenris," I whispered, stepping closer to him.

"It's nothing," he said gruffly, grabbing at his own shirt.

"Bullshit. I knew you were sore, but I had no idea it was this bad. Why didn't you have Anders take care of this? Your ribs are probably broken."

He was still trying to struggle into the shirt he wore under his armor, the injury obviously making it difficult. "I have healed from worse without his aid."

I huffed out a breath and closed the remaining distance between us to snatch it from him. "I have never met anyone so stubborn," I grumbled. "Spending this whole time in pain just because you don't like the man is insane. Stay still," I ordered. When I reached a hand up to test the damage he shied away. "I know you don't like being touched, but I'm going to find out how bad you're hurt even if it means I have to wrestle you to the ground." I reached out again, slowly this time, as if he was an unfamiliar dog and I was worried I would get my hand snapped off. A muscle jerked in his jaw and he looked anywhere but at me, but he didn't pull away. I took that as permission to touch him. I ran my hand lightly over the injury. He was so tense I could feel the muscles jump as I skimmed along them.

His skin was hot under my fingertips. Scars crisscrossed his body, some old and faded, some newly healed. The lyruim tattoos swirled on his chest, curling around flat brown nipples. Forcing myself to focus on the task and not on the thrill of touching him for the first time, I followed the dips and valleys of his bruised side until my fingers hit an area even hotter than the rest. Smoothing my palm against the area, I pushed gently. At his hiss, I felt his ribs move unnaturally under his skin. At least two were broken, but it seemed like they were still in place.

"I'll be right back," I said and headed the rest of the way to camp. The scent of cooking rabbit hung heavy in the air. Bypassing Verric, who was keeping an eye on the spitted meat, I rummaged around in my pack until I found my potion pouch. Flipping up the flap, I looked inside. There was one healing potion left at the bottom. Snagging it, I made my way back to Fenris. By the time I had made it back to him, he had managed to get his shirt on and was lifting his armor over his head. Stubborn, stubborn man. Silently I handed him the vial.

He nodded his thanks and tossed the potion back. It didn't take long for him to start moving more easily. I waited as he did up the buckles on his armor, arms crossed over my chest.

As soon as he was covered again and was picking up the broadsword he had lain nearby as he washed, I gave him a frown. "With ribs broken like that, you could have punctured something. You would have bled out internally." I could feel my frown deepen with displeasure as I thought about that.

"Have you been taking lessons from a healer?"

"No. I only know about injuries that I've had personally, which is a majority of them. And just so you know, I'd be really mad at you if you died on me. I'd have to somehow get to the Fade and pull your ass out of there. It would be a real pain, so the next time your hurt, just tell me so I don't have to figure out how to storm the afterlife to come rescue you."

Fenris laughed and gave me one of his rare smiles. "Somehow, I don't doubt that for a moment."


End file.
